


mom, please fire mister hux: a memoir

by reddisk



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddisk/pseuds/reddisk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>being the most despised teacher in the entire school district is the job of ben solo and this asshole's ruining his gig, how's he supposed to get respect with the american history teacher assigning weekly oral presentations, you tell him: a romantic comedy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. exponentially worse than bad

No one likes Mr. Solo.

There’s lots of different people, meaning lots of different teachers. Mr. Solo isn’t a particularly welcoming one. He’s about as relaxed and friendly as a cornered animal, and a hell of a lot more aggressive. He isn’t patient. When a student acts up, makes a mistake, or sneezes, he reacts with a bang. Tantrums aren’t unheard of in Mr. Solo’s classroom. He likes to throw things. Chairs, markers, whatever’s within grasp.

There are two reasons that Mr. Solo continues to teach. For starters, he’s never harmed anyone. Despite the number of rulers busted over his knee he’s never inflicted anything besides stress and an academic sort of terror upon his students. No violations meant no reason to fire him. (Yet.)

Secondly, Mr. Solo’s mother is principal of the school. (His father is well known by the students for being an endearingly hilarious sort of guy who makes occasionally appearances. They’re well-liked. Mr. Solo isn’t, but as their son, he’s allowed to remain. Begrudgingly.)

Therefore, Mr. Ben Solo continues to rule his Honors Geometry class with an iron fist. Freshmen and Sophomores alike shudder in fear of classroom 21B.

* * *

 

He’s grading tests. Serious business.

It’s a hassle for any teacher, but especially so for Ben Solo, who wants to track down every student and ask them personally why in the _hell_ they assumed that angle QRS represents the Corresponding Angle Postulate when it’s evident as all fuck that the answer is the Alternate Exterior Angle Theorem. Instead, he’s forced to scribble over every incorrect answer in his infamously awful red pen, the one that spurts ink at random and needs a good shake to get started. Then, in the most tedious manner imaginable, he has to correct them. Not as a teacher, but as a person. It picks at his brain to leave something unsolved.

Ben Solo may be awful at “connecting with the youth,” so to speak, but he’s intelligent. Math whiz. Maybe this had something to do with his original decision to become an educator. Maybe it was the fact that his mother and his Uncle Luke work the very same profession as he chose to pursue. Neither of these reasons are good enough, because he’s shitty at his job.

His pen decides to stop working, so he shakes it like mad and continues to write. Ink splutters out the moment he presses the tip to the paper. Ben takes a breath, stands up, and aims a kick at his desk.

His students are working on a quiz. A pop quiz, except not, because Mr. Solo assigns pop quizzes so often that his students consider studying an integral homework assignment every night. No one jumps at the kick. It’s a usual occurrence.

He sits back down and continues grading, and he’s nearly finished with the stack once Mrs. Organa walks in. The principal. His mother.

“Ben,” she says, and her presence makes the morning light filtering through the windows seem that much warmer. It’s insulting to a man such as Ben, who appreciates the aura of petrified students and mathematics.

“Mother.” It’s a formal tone that he uses, something that Mrs. Organa wants to roll her eyes at.

“As you know, I’ve been meaning to find a replacement for Mrs. Werner.” The former American History teacher retired last fall. “I’ve managed to find someone. I want you to put your best foot forward. Alright?”

“Why didn’t I know about this earlier?”

“I don’t have an answer to that.”

“When are they coming in?”

“Well, today’s his first day in the building, but he’s just prepping. Classes will be back in working order by Monday. About time. That poor sub’s been handling some of the more difficult students, I’ve been afraid we might walk in on a corpse since November.”

Ben’s a little miffed, as he wants to know the goings on of the school. They have an email system for these sorts of things. For God’s sake, he has family ties with the operation of the entire high school, he just had dinner at his parents’ the night prior. “Right.”

“If you would be so kind as to say hello, that would make things a lot easier for me. You do know how hard I work.”

“Right.”

“Aching joints. Arthritis. Common cold.”

“Right.”

Mrs. Organa leaves the room, because her son is a tough egg to crack when it comes to comedy and she has paperwork to file.

* * *

 

Towards the end of his lunch break, Ben decides it’s high time to see what the deal is with this American History teacher. He finishes his salad in record time and turns into classroom 14C.

It’s different. That’s all he can think, because the faded inspirational posters are long gone. It’s desolate. The desks are immaculate and straightened. The white board is clean. The front desk is cleared of everything besides a laptop and a thick, red binder.

There’s a man fixing a chair that’s already in place. Ben notices his hair. It’s ginger, and he can’t help but visualize him as an exceptionally luxurious lap cat off of that comparison alone. The man sees Ben, and he’s evidently displeased.

“You’re new.” Ben is equally as displeased.

“I’m Brendol Hux the second,” he says, and he sticks out a hand. Ben doesn’t take it. He stares at the desks instead.

“Ben Solo.” Unfortunately for Ben, Hux isn’t backing off, and it becomes clear that his hand isn’t going down until some natural force strikes it down for him. Ben shakes his hand.

“Tell me, Mr. Hux, what brand of moisturizer do you use?” Ben asks.

“I’ll only tell when you explain what brand of conditioner you don’t use,” Hux replies.

Well, that's a problem, Ben can feel it in his bones. He opens his mouth to start one of his monumental shouting matches until Mrs. Organa comes striding into the room like she felt the tension from her office on the second floor.

“Mr. Hux, this is my son, Mr. Solo," she says.

“We’ve met,” Hux says.

Ben decides that he’s going to leave a flaming bag of dog shit on Hux’s door the moment he gets the chance.


	2. this won't be tolerated, i'm rich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> main is hux/kylo but a dashing of finn/poe never hurt anyone, you dig

Mr. Hux doesn’t tolerate anything besides breathing. He doesn’t have to do anything besides stare to get a student to back down. He keeps a knife in reserve for difficult students. He uses cologne infused with pig blood.

These are all rumors about the new American History teacher, and none of them are true. Mr. Hux is intimidating, relentless, maybe ruthless. But he’s still a teacher.

Just a scary one.

During his first class, he assigned a poster project for the end of the week. During his second class, he assigned a Powerpoint on their current textbook unit for Monday. Perpetual worksheets flood folders. An oral presentation every Friday is expected.

Mr. Hux is a strong believer in practice making perfect, and it’s evident in his teaching methods. It’s foul, Ben thinks. Absolutely despicable. He can’t believe he’s being bested in such a manner, his position as school fuckhead to be torn from his mantle.

Every time he passes classroom 14C he feels a migraine begin to build behind his forehead. Mr. Hux’s class is always quiet. No one makes a sound. The same can be said of Ben’s own students, but it’s an awful sort of silence when he isn’t the one conducting it.

He complains to his mother. In her office, over the phone, at her doorstep. She tells him to suck it up. She tells him that sometimes he’s so similar to his father that it makes her regret bothering with the C-section. More than anything else, she tells him to give Hux a chance, because Ben had probably initiated the conflict anyway.

In retrospect, he should decide to relax a little bit, but he’s too focused on trying to best Hux. Weekly oral presentations? Try weekly exams, _Brendol_.

The students aren’t happy. Two bad teachers means a bad report card. They’d adapted to Mr. Solo, but double trouble is another story. They’re drowning in exams, group projects, and silence from the beginning to end of every class every day. It’s painstaking.

But that’s just how it is.

* * *

 

Rey’s hand hasn’t worked properly since her freshman year.

She isn’t exaggerating, she’s sure the wrist is beginning to click. She’d spent enough detentions with Mr. Solo copying lines to fill a dictionary the year prior. He didn’t like her. She was his niece, but that hadn’t earned her any brownie points, so her hurried homework assignments landed her in room 21B after school nearly every week.

Retaking the class wasn’t a problem. Plenty of sophomores took Geometry, anyway. She wasn’t fazed. Not in the slightest.

(How the hell did _Rey Skywalker_ manage to fail a class in the name of all that is holy?)

She turns to Finn and continues to twist her wrist around. “Can you hear it? I think I can.”

Finn leans in to listen. He’s a new student, just moved into town a month ago, and Rey had been blessed with the duty of helping the poor guy around. They’ve been friends ever since. It’s hard not to like Rey.

“It isn’t clicking, stop wriggling around before you break something.” He pushes her hand down.

“No, listen,” and she continues.

“You’re a dangerous woman.” Finn turns to his pile of paperwork, courtesy of American History.

Rey peers over what he’s writing. “Edmund Randolph wasn’t vice president.”

“I’m dying, it doesn’t matter. As long as something’s on the page.”

“Can you believe our luck? Solo and Hux, the two of them, jammed into our sophomore year?” She grabs a pencil and scribbles flowers in the corner of an index card.

“I’ve been here since Christmas and I’ve already given up on my grades.”

“Yeah,” says Rey. “Check out Dameron.”

Poe Dameron is a junior, and it’s the general consensus of the student body that he’s gorgeous. Sporty. He plays track, soccer, he’s even on the bowling team. A real jack of all trades. He’s demonstrating a stretch next to their lunch table, angled towards Finn.

It just so happens that Finn is wearing one of Poe’s various varsity jackets. “He’s athletic,” he says offhandedly.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” With that, the bell rings, and they’re off to room 14C.

* * *

 

Ben is sitting in one of the desks of room 14C.

Hux walks in, red binder to his chest, and he has some difficulty hiding his surprise at seeing a colleague in one of his students' desks. “Solo?”

“I’m here to review your teaching methods.” This is a blatant lie. He doesn’t have any classes this period and he wants to get in Hux’s business more than he wants to win the lottery, so he’s there.

Hux knows this, but he isn’t one to back down from a challenge. “I’m sure this’ll be an experience you can use as a reference for your own classes.”

Fuck. He’s being patronized. “I suggest you tone down the attitude before things get uncomfortable, _Brendol_.”

“Are you making fun of my name? My father’s name, the man who died in war, a man more honorable than your entire family tree?”

“He sounds like he was a fat little dork, actually.”

Hux is scandalized. He stares, mouth agape, and Ben doubts he would have managed a comeback even if the students hadn’t begun to filter in.

No one speaks. They sit, they pull out their homework, and they pass it forward to be collected. No one voices their curiosity about Mr. Solo.

Hux swallows. “Alright, then.” And he turns to the class, and he starts to dictate. Not teach; dictate. Hux is official and demanding, clear and sharp. It’s hard not to take him seriously. Fortunately, Ben is willing to force himself into treating him like an incompetent tool.

“Excuse me.” He raises a hand.

Hux pauses, obviously thrown off his game. “Interruptions won’t be tolerated, Mr. Solo.”

“Well, I’m a coworker. I’m to be tolerated.”

“You’re in my class.”

“You aren’t my mom.”

“Right, because she’s the principal. How about I give her a ring?”

“You can’t call my mother, I’m here on official business. You’re teaching like a dog who’s been hit by a Jeep.”

The students watch, dumbfounded by the fact that Hux is being disrespected, let alone by a fellow teacher, let alone by Mr. Solo. Precious minutes are being wasted. Rey’s catching the exchange on video.

Hux walks over. Ben looks ridiculous, squeezed into a desk built so obviously for someone less than six foot three inches tall. His knees poke out of the sides. Hux leans down. He’s on eye level with Ben.

“Mr. Solo.”

“Brendol.”

Hux keeps his eyes on him, then pulls up again. He continues to teach for the rest of the period with his usual confidence. However, once the last student bustles out of the room, he points a finger at Ben with the commanding air of an army general.

“You aren’t going to sit in on any more of my classes, you aren’t going to tarnish my representation in front of my students, and you certainly aren’t going to get away with this.”

“Try me, asshole, we work together.” Ben spends seven entire seconds trying to get his legs out of the desk and leaves the room in three.

Hux watches. He takes a seat at his desk, and he dials Mrs. Organa over the phone.

“You son is a menace,” he says the exact moment he hears her breathe on the other end.

“Humor me, Hux, he’s just getting under your skin because he can.” The line goes dead.


	3. this house isn't hell but it might as well be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a note: uncle luke is a ap bio teacher and all the upperclassmen love him because he taught them in elementary school

Ben is sitting in his mother’s office.

She’s adjusting her glasses, the other hand pushing against her chin. She’s tired. This was expected, she knew Ben would end up disliking Mr. Hux. They were very alike. Hux being more composed, sure, but just as headstrong. Ben isn’t very fond of headstrong people. As far as he’s concerned, it’s his civic duty to be the biggest fat head within twenty-five kilometers at all times, and Hux was sure to get in the way of this from day one.

“Ben,” she begins.

The situation is far too akin to a petulant child being sent to the corner in his opinion. Reckless as he tends to be, he’s still an adult. He pays taxes, buys his own groceries. He raises his eyebrows in response to his mother. It isn’t smart to disrupt Leia Organa under any circumstances.

“Hux offends you. Am I mistaken?"

“No,” he says stiffly.

“Well, that sucks, dear.”

“He’s so full of himself, mother. He struts around like some kind of bird. It’s repulsive. I can’t believe you decided to let someone such as _Brendol_ teach children, I bet he’s a convict.”

“I don’t hire convicts. He’s complained about your usage of his name, you know.” It’s like handling preschoolers.

This is an accomplishment for Ben. He’d managed to get on Hux’s nerves. “What about it? I’m being friendly, using his first name in accordance with our budding relationship.”

“I’ve received enough emails about his father’s position in some war or another to know that if I hear you stress any syllables in the name _Brendol_ again I’m going to send dad over to overfeed your goldfish.”

“Beta fish.” Ben stands, towering over his mother. She shoots him a glance so toxic that he immediately takes a seat again.

“That’s what I said. Anyway, if you don’t make an attempt to get along with Hux, there will be consequences. I mean it.” She turns to her computer, and Ben is forced to take his leave.

Mrs. Organa makes these claims a lot. No one knows what the consequences are. Since Ben was a young kid he could remember his father scrambling to remedy a situation once threatened with “consequences.” Naturally, he’s inclined to get his shit in gear.

He returns to his classroom, pulls out his lunch, and starts to scribble out ideas on a sheet of loose leaf.

_Befriending Brendol Hux: An Operative Guide_   
_1\. Casually make eye contact._   
_2\. Laugh at his jokes._   
_3\. Make your own jokes and gauge reactions for later reference._   
_4\. Rinse and repeat._

Ben stares at his list, then tears it to shreds. He tears the shreds into tinier shreds. Teenier and teenier until he can’t pry them apart anymore. This is going to take willpower. Sweat, blood, tears, and maybe some saliva.

* * *

 

Hux is getting coffee from the teacher’s lounge when he notices Ben Solo staring at him.

Not that guy. God, please. Hux had managed to steer clear of Solo for an entire two days, and he doesn’t want to ruin his streak. He fills his mug with coffee, adds two sugars and enough milk to qualify as ridiculous, then takes a seat.

Ben Solo is still staring. Hux tries not to make eye contact, but there’s only so long you can pretend you aren’t being watched, so he turns his head.

“What is it?” His tone is formal, as he’d gotten a reprimand of his own from Mrs. Organa.

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Right.” He turns away, but Hux only gets a good thirty seconds of peace and quiet before he catches him in the act again.

“Pull out your phone and take a fucking picture while the lighting’s decent.”

Ben looks like he’s contemplating, then he laughs. Hux is sure it wouldn’t be so grating if it was a genuine laugh. He’s heard easier giggles out of freshly orphaned children.

“What’s funny?”

“You made a joke.”

“I know I did, but you aren’t supposed to laugh at it.”

“That’s the actual definition of comedy.”

“You aren’t the- Okay. I don’t have time for this. I have students to fail.” He stands up and gulps at his coffee. It’s scalding, so he chokes up over his clothes. The royal blue of his tie is ruined.

Ben doesn’t laugh at this, either, which is strange. Hux knows he’d be in hysterics if his nemesis had spit coffee over himself. Frowning, he grabs the paper towels off of the counter and tries to mop himself up. He gives up after a good twenty seconds.

Ben watches, then takes a long sip from his coffee. “Well, I’m out of here.” 

* * *

 

At seven thirty AM on Wednesday morning, Ben bumps into Hux, who makes a noise like a cat getting its tail yanked.

"Get out of the way." Ben has an afterthought. "Please."

"I don't have to do anything," Hux says. "You should get out of the way."

"You're the one blocking the fucking door."

"There's four doors."

Ben tightens his hands into fists and turns into another door, only to be pulled back by Hux.

"I swear to shit, I'm-"

"I'm having a party." Hux looks like the information is searing his throat. "Mrs. Organa suggested I hold a get-together at my house. It's customary-"

"Are we going to drink our parents' booze and lose our virginities?"

"-For new employees. I wouldn't invite you," Hux continues, "But I know how your mother wants us to get along. I'm willing to behave as long as you do. If you pull any _shenanigans_ in my home, I'll punt you out the window, but-"

"Why would I want to see your trash heap of a house?"

"-I'm sure we won't have that problem as long as we keep to ourselves. I'll include you in the email invitations I'm sending out. Have an excellent day." And he's off, walking like he's using every ounce of strength not to knock Ben in the jaw.

Fine. He'll go swimming in whatever dumpster Hux sleeps in.

* * *

 

Hux's house isn't a dumpster.

It's clean, organized. Very bright. If it was the middle of the day, the windows would be bringing in tons of sunlight, but the curtains are drawn instead. The shelves adorning the walls hold lots of battered books. There's cheese and wine.

Ben wants to regret this visit, so he looks for something to hate. The flatscreen is a tad crooked. That's enough.

His parents and Uncle Luke are chatting with Hux around the table, and watching them fraternize with the enemy is giving Ben a stomachache.

The email had included an address, a date, the request for business casual clothing, and a phone number for any questions. Ben saved the number for later reference. He also decided to wear jeans and a gray v-neck in order to break the dress code.

Ben is satisfied, especially when Hux sees his attire and turns a shade of red.

After a few minutes of drifting around he turns and sees Hux standing beside him. "Fuck, don't tail me like that."

"Business casual," is all he says.

"Oh, right. Slipped my mind."

"Everyone else is business casual, Solo. Even your deadbeat father."

"Is he, now? Shaping up?" Han Solo is a pilot. He'd been something of a thieving criminal in his early years, but he's gotten his license recently. Ben still sees failure.

Hux wants to continue, but he stops. "Have a good time, Ben." He puts on a big smile and turns into the kitchen, where he starts slicing bread like it's Ben's intestinal tract.

Ben spends the rest of his evening in the living room munching on crackers. There's alcohol, but he sips on water instead. Hux takes a seat next to him. Everyone's left but his parents and Ben himself.

"You haven't tried the wine. I spent sixty dollars on that bottle."

"I don't drink."

"It's not there to get you drunk, it's for taste."

"I don't drink."

"Fine," Hux says, and he sounds frustrated.

Ben keeps still. Fortunately, he doesn't have any more crackers, so he can't crunch. "You have a nice house," he says after a moment.

"Oh, it's nothing," Hux replies, even though it's clearly something.

"I'm going to go now."

"Oh, yes. Okay. Your parents are almost finished up, anyway." They're picking off the brie, and Ben can't blame them, that shit is expensive.

"Have a good night, then." Ben pulls on his coat and heads out the front door. His parents depart shortly thereafter, and Hux straightens up his apartment.

Ben forgot his gloves. Hux notices this, and he keeps them.


	4. unwarranted sexual tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a day late, but id like to imagine the wait is worth it considering how heavily edited this is
> 
> things get good, almost!!
> 
> heres all you need to get the gist of bens laugh, real and fake: http://youtu.be/gJ3mGQAFS6I

It's been a month since Ben visited Hux's house, and he doesn't know where they stand.

Ben is strange. He doesn't laugh. When he isn't in a rage, he's devoid of all emotion. He drinks his coffee black, he's never worn a tie in the workplace, and he doesn't use any dressing with his salads.

Hux is intimidated by Ben Solo, but he's also curious. He won't admit this to himself. Instead, he works around him when possible. Out of sight, out of mind. Ben Solo isn't real.

They can't avoid each other in the teacher's lounge. Hux needs his coffee, Ben's there on lunch break. Hux sips from his favorite mug and stares at his phone's home screen for a half hour. Once lunch is finished, he's out of the room as fast as physically possible. It's routine.

Hux is mixing milk into his coffee. Ben is eating a granola bar and staring out the window.

Why's he always _staring_? When he isn't staring, he's grading something. Hux opens his phone and checks his email, only to be interrupted shortly thereafter.

"It's snowing."

Hux glances out the window, and it is. "I hope my car doesn't get snowed in."

"Yeah, it's supposed to get nasty."

"Okay." These sorts of exchanges are few and awkward. Hux clears his throat and tries to drum up an excuse to leave the room, but he falls short, so he takes a seat across from Ben and watches the snow fall. It's a pain in the ass to think about shoveling his walk the next day.

Ben turns to the rest of his lunch. As usual, he doesn't use any dressing. Godless heathen.

After a while, he sees Ben staring again, and he loses his cool a tad. Just a smidgen. "Why are you always ogling me like a roach in your refrigerator?"

"It's a military tactic."

"I can't _believe_ you're making a wise crack about my dead father."

"I'm not." It's incredibly hard to get a read on Ben Solo. Whether he's kidding or not, he's always deadpan. "I'm making a wise crack about myself. I was in the marines."

"You were not."

"Yeah, I was. I got a medical discharge two years in."

Hux is inclined to argue, but he doesn't have any reason to. "Why were you discharged?"

"Sternum shattered in an accident."

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who could stand being enlisted."

"I could tie you into a fucking knot."

"Thanks for serving, then."

Ben had been all too ready for an argument, but he's forced to sit back again, lanky self and all. "Tell your dad I said thanks the next time you go to piss on his grave." 

* * *

 

The next morning, Hux hears his doorbell ring, and the man at the door is Ben. He has a shovel.

"Is this a threat?"

"I'm here to shovel your walk. As a favor."

Hux blinks. It's nine thirty in the morning and his head is still fuzzy, so he doesn't think too hard about the offer. "Alright, then."

Ben turns around and does what he promised. It's a good job, actually. Hux can't help his periodic glances out the window to make sure his car tires hadn't been deflated, only to see Ben working hard, and it's fucking suspicious. He doesn't trust this. Not one bit.

Once Ben finishes up the front steps, Hux pops open the door. "Something to drink?"

"Sure." Ben brushes off his pants.

Hux heats up milk for hot chocolate, the natural choice of beverage when it's cold, but Ben doesn't even take it. He kicks off his boots and sips at a glass of water instead.

Hux is offended. "Why did you shovel for me?"

"As a favor."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I'm sure it does, actually."

"Don't patronize me in my own house."

"I'm not patronizing you."

"I have no idea when I should take you seriously, Ben." Hux is at wits end.

"You shouldn't get yourself in a twist when I'm trying to answer a question." He has another gulp of water, and his fingers are red from the cold.

"Why did you decide to do me a favor?"

"Already finished my parents' sidewalk, might as well be a good colleague and help you."

"I didn't realize we're on good terms."

"We've been on excellent terms. I've been laughing at your jokes all week."

Ben Solo is a poor soul, Hux decides, because he doesn't really get how friendship works. He does the proper thing and puts together a package of cookies for him to keep.

When Ben gets home, he feeds his fish and has a cookie. It isn't bad. He has to figure out a better recipe if he's going to pull one over on Hux, but maybe he can let this one slide.

* * *

 

Mrs. Organa is relieved. She'd called her son to ask a favor, only to be told that he was busy with Hux. They were "coordinating their teaching methods." Knowing that she wouldn't have to keep an eye on tensions between the two employees is like walking on air.

"What'd he say?" Han is sitting across the table, one hand propped against his chin.

"He can't stop by. He's busy with someone." She sounds like she had when Ben introduced friends during elementary school.

"The kid's finally roped in another girlfriend, huh?"

"I wouldn't go that far. He's with Hux. We visited his house, does that ring a bell?"

"The rich one."

"Right." Mrs. Organa is so pleased that she lets Han halfass the dishes.

* * *

 

They're still trying to outdo each other, Rey thinks.

She stares into her notebook and continues to feel like the world's crumbling around her. Her grades are plummeting. American History had been a piece of cake before Mr. Hux took over the position, but now she's struggling with a sixty-two percent average, an alright number in comparison to her hopeless F in Geometry.

She pulls the numbers with her calculator. To pass Geometry, she needs a 172 on the midterm. An impossible number. For History, she needs a 156. Less impossible. Still, she's doomed to graduate an entire year behind her peers, and the idea of failing _again_ is enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Nope, bawling into her pillow isn't extra credit. She wipes underneath her eyes and comes downstairs. "Grandpa?"

Her grandpa is Luke Skywalker, and they live together. She doesn't know anything about her parents. Grandpa Luke doesn't talk about them. She wishes he would, but the Skywalkers are a dramatic bunch, really. No sense prying information before it can be divulged with dramatic lighting.

He's frying frying something in a skillet. "Yeah, Rey?"

"I'm failing two classes."

"Well, that's better than three."

"I'm serious. I can't afford to fail Geometry again, I have another garbage grade on top of that, and I have no idea what I'm going to do." She throws herself on the couch and kicks her legs in the air.

He turns down the heat. Multitasking comes easy to Grandpa Luke. "You know you can phone your uncle about this."

"Conversations with Mr. Solo are traumatic."

"Oh, he's just silly," Grandpa Luke says. He sees the good in everyone. It makes Rey want to hurl.

"He doesn't offer extra credit, he's always mad. Mr. Hux is worse. Oral presentations are as bad as a root canal."

"If you want to pass, you need to work with your teachers. You know that."

Easy for him to say, Rey thinks. He's the most understanding guy in the entire school district. Mr. Skywalker hands out extra credit opportunities like flyers.

"Why don't you visit them after school tomorrow?"

"Well, fine." A death sentence. 

* * *

 

Ben and Hux are in room 21B. Ben is in his usual chair, while Hux had dragged up a spare to help him grade papers.

"How do you go so fucking _fast_?" Ben is getting aggravated, as he's the one who issued these worksheets and Hux is five or so ahead.

"If you wouldn't spent an hour arguing with students in the margin, you might be speedier."

Ben knocks a cup of spare pencils off his desk and returns to grading.

"Would you accept this as an answer?" Hux pushes a worksheet across the desk and points at number four, which Ben inspects and immediately starts scribbling upon.

"You'd think we're teaching carnies."

Hux laughs, and so does Ben. It doesn't sound as forced and painstaking as usual. They're staring at each other, but they aren't speaking, and the silence of the room rings in their ears louder than usual until the door slams open.

"Hey, Mr. Solo, it's your loving niece-" Rey notices Mr. Hux and can't help how her mouth twitches.

Ben had scooted his chair away from Hux so quickly that half the contents of his desk are on the floor. "What do you want?"

"Grandpa Luke said I needed to talk to you about, um, my grades. Are you busy?" She peers at Hux, back at Ben, Hux again.

" _No_." He opens the student portal on his computer and finds Rey's grades, which are pathetic. "What about them?"

"They're bad."

"I know that."

"Can you raise them?"

"You wouldn't be failing if you put effort into your homework."

"But I _do_ , I put tons of effort, you don't give me credit because you don't like my answers!" Rey is trying to be as polite as physically possible with adrenaline rushing in her ears. "I want to know what _you_ want, because I really need to pass."

Ben pulls Rey's paper from the stack. Yeah, he hadn't given her credit. "You didn't show any work."

"Is that it?"

Under normal circumstances, Ben wouldn't budge, but he uncaps his pen and replaces the zero with half credit. "If you want credit, go over your answers with me and show your calculations."

Rey is so surprised, she nearly trips on the way out.


	5. there's a hop and a skip between common decency and romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's finished!!! throw your hats!!!!
> 
> i did everything i wanted to with this au, so it's coming to a close, but you should expect more huxlo in the future under another title. <3

When Ben was in the seventh grade, he had his first girlfriend. He ended up killing a spider she wanted to let outside. They broke off before their one-week anniversary.

Years later, he met another girl, and they kept together for seven months. It was awkward. She was an art student with thick red hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Pretty as she was, he ended up backing out of the relationship through a phone call, and they haven’t spoken since.

That marks the conclusion to Ben’s dating history. He hasn’t felt the desire to continue dating since the last escapade, so he doesn’t know how to deal with Hux, especially considering the fact that he’s never had a crush on any men. Has he? What’s the criteria for a crush? Is there a difference between admiration and attraction?

He’s not going to bother dealing with the problem until it trips him up down the road.

* * *

 

Hux is being tripped up on a daily basis.

Ben Solo is an asshole. He’s angry, he needs to accessorize, and Hux can’t believe he wants to kiss him. It’s preposterous. Brendol Hux the second, associating _romantically_ with Ben. They’ve only been close enough to qualify as friends for two months.

Hux hasn’t dated anyone since the year prior. It’s kind of embarrassing to think about. His ex-boyfriend didn’t take things as seriously as Hux, who strategized the relationship like a game plan. You couldn’t blame his ex for being uncomfortable with that sort of attitude.

In any case, he couldn’t believe that his brain even dared to attempt tip toeing into a relationship again. Disgraceful.

* * *

 

“This is where I live,” Ben says.

Hux can think of five ways he’d tidy up off the top of his head. Either way, it’s a comfortable apartment, so he nods and takes a seat in the living room. Ben starts clanking around in the kitchen.

There’s a single fish swimming around in huge tank, piles and piles of books on the floor, and notes taped haphazardly on the walls. Sticky notes, loose leaf, index cards, all sorts of little reminders. Hux can see three of them on the ceiling from where he’s sitting.

“What would you like to drink?” Ben asks.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He returns with two glasses of grape juice. Hux takes one and continues staring around the apartment. “What’s your fish’s name?”

“Dash.”

It takes a lot of effort to hold back a laugh. Ben is very serious about this fish, so he nods and opens his binder. “Can you help me grade quizzes? It’s multiple choice, no big deal.”

Ben agrees, so Hux separates the stack. They fall into silence as they work. There’s an answer key, so it wouldn’t take long., but he’s hoping that Ben won’t take it upon himself to knock off points for correct answers.

“Conferences are next week,” Ben says.

“I’m ready to handle angry parents.”

“The rage usually fizzles out after they get to know me.” Ben scrawls a big 56 in the corner of a student’s quiz.

“I can see that. You’re intimidating.”

“Excellent.”

Hux laughs, and so does Ben, and they have another one of those comfortably quiet moments that make Hux’s stomach twist. Right.

He’s going to have to deal with that, probably, has to deal with things in a timely manner. Waiting out a crush isn’t in the cards; no, he is going to make himself very clear on the matter, and that’s that. No beating around the bush.

He can’t think of any particular way to do that just yet. It’s a process.

Suddenly, Ben starts slamming his pen against the coffee table. That awful red one. Hux has gotten ink all over his hands thanks to an attempt at writing with it, so he’s particularly wary of the manner Ben is banging it all around.

“I have to drop this in some boiling water.” Why he refuses to throw it out, Hux has no idea, but Ben stands and heads into the kitchen yet again. By the time he’s finished, the quizzes have been graded.

“Got it working again,” Ben says. As he walks by, Hux grabs him by the collar of his shirt and tugs him down on instinct.

Ben bends his knees as to avoid being choked. “Hello.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Hux hasn’t figured out what to do after the shirt grab scenario, so he keeps in place.

“My knees hurt, Hux.”

“Suck it up. I’m working on something.”

Ben’s knees are beginning to tremble, so Hux makes a noise of irritability and lets go. “Are you into men or aren’t you?”

Ben, to his credit, reacts in a reasonable manner instead of panicking. “I’m conflicted.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing.” Hux adjusts his tie.

“Are you trying to hit on me?”

“Attitude or curiosity?”

“I’ve never had an attitude in my entire life.”

If all else fails, Ben Solo is still full of himself, so Hux doesn’t have to worry about his confession resulting in anything earthshattering. “I’m hitting on you, only slowly.”

“I’ve only dated women.”

“How’s that going?”

“Uh,” Ben says. “I’m not a Romeo.”

“Yeah, no fucking wonder, you’re riddled with antagonistic qualities.”

“Says the Casanova who tried pulling me in for a kiss by the throat.”

Hux finishes his juice, picks up his things, and leaves the apartment. It would be a great deal more dramatic if he didn’t want to laugh.

* * *

 

Ben could go into explicit detail about how he and Hux managed to get around the homosexuality crisis, but all you need to know is that they end up making out in classroom 14C a half hour before the Parent-Teacher Meeting. Ben doesn’t know how to kiss, but it isn’t hard to fake it.

Things go well up until Mrs. Organa comes in to prompt Hux on his plans for the meeting. She sees him on her son’s lap, and it’s something of a surprise. She immediately turns around, calls Han, and informs him that he needs to prepare a slew of jokes about Ben’s boyfriend to tell over dinner.

* * *

 

“I always knew,” Han says. “I could sense it. Since you were in your mother’s womb I knew you had a hankering for guys.”

Ben is cutting into his pork chop like it’s trying to steal his wallet.

“But it’s fine, Ben, you know your uncle? Uncle Luke? He was a spicy one in our day.” At the glance Leia gives him, he decides to steer the conversation into another direction. “But I settled for the superior Skywalker.”

“Right,” she agrees.

Hux has worn the nicest outfit he could put together without seeming overdressed for the occasion. He wants to make a good impression, after all. The fact that he’s already spoken with Ben’s parents a dozen times means nothing.

On the contrary, Ben is wearing a free t-shirt he’d gotten from a volunteer event during college and jeans. These are his parents, and he doesn’t want to be there. “Are you two finished, or should I put off my premature death for another hour?”

“We aren’t disappointed, you know. You’re going for the money with this one,” Han says, and he claps Hux on the back. “Sixty-dollar wine, huh?”

Hux gives Ben a look, who’s giving his mother a look, who’s laughing with his father. Things are okay.

* * *

 

 Rey raises her eyebrows at Finn. He’s texting underneath his desk. In _Solo’s_ class.

She knows who it is, however, so she’ll keep out of things. It took long enough. Poe had been practically tripping over his own hints, but it only took a sloppy confession over Skype for them to get together.

She turns her head as the door opens, and it’s Mr. Hux. He swoops across the classroom and mumbles something in Mr. Solo’s ear. Mr. Solo nods, hesitates, and kisses his cheek.

Damn.

Once Mr. Hux leaves the room, Mr. Solo turns to the class. “I’m cancelling the exam tomorrow.”

_Damn._

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for the support!
> 
> follow at ye olde tumblr, @kylobenji


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